


Fly by Night

by Crocuta



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M, Thommy - Freeform, VIKINGS AU, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crocuta/pseuds/Crocuta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barrow is a shipbuilding Viking, plucked to go on a journey to keep a raiding ship in working order. He is forever changed by a journey to the south when they take a captive named Jimmy. Thommy. Rated for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Fog crept over the juniper, clover, shrub that dotted the hills. It blanketed over always muddy paths dotted with years of overlapping foot prints, dampening the senses of those lost in it. Fog was a curse to all men. Whether it was to aide your enemy in coming behind you undetected, or keeping your prey far from out under your nose. It's only master was Loki, who would control it not. 

It sprawled over the shores, gray waves languidly licking up before falling back. The morning sun had yet to creep up over the muted skyline to burn away the damp and mist. Boats pushed off from the shoreline to slug along the still waters and to drag their nets behind them. Others off to use the cover of the fog to creep into distant villages to take whatever they could lay paw on. The bustle of the village and Long Hall were coated in the blanket of the Trickster. 

Children could scarcely see which goats they'd to be milking, wives split fish from barrels with practiced ease and stuffed them with salt. Even the hammer of the smith was muffled. Birds made the mistake of perching only to be shot at by keen eyed young ones wielding plumstones, determined to show off their skills to one and other. 

 

But then there was Barrow. He didn't care much for mornings. The squeal of children and clucking of roosters was enough to set his teeth on edge. The dark circles under his eyes contested to the fact that he rose far earlier than the sun. Barrow's fingers were chilled and cramped from the intricate detail he was carving to a boat head. A many toothed sea-dragon roared from its perch, It was a truly fearsome thing to behold – almost living in its own right, and surely needed to be respected. The sheer size of it was incredible, he spent half the night hanging upside down from its great head to bring life and scales to it's body. 

Or was that yesterday? Had he even stopped? When he set to something it was quite hard to shake himself from it until it was finished. He dropped from his whittled ladder into the water. This boat, was beautiful – dowry for the Jarl's daughter, and surely to be a fine vessel for a crew to be raiding under her husband. Barrow was quite proud of it, he fell the mighty trees that made its boards, and always built with such finesse that he turned those seeking to learn from him away. He had built this skill up over a lifetime, someone wishing for a handout would simply have to go elsewhere. 

Barrow stooped to brush seawater over his sweat-streaked face, and to observe his reflection in the gray water. Pale face, gray eyes, dark circles. Black hair slick with its own oil, no a dark swatch of beard. He rose and inspected the finished boat but his stomach gave him a firm kick to revisit his priorities. He /was/ wearing the same roughspun for days now, maybe it was time to go pour ale down his gullet until he completed the grubby picture. 

 

Barrow had planned to go home, clean his tools, eat, get piss drunk, and fall down until the next night – but clearly this wasn't going to be Barrow's day. It was the engagement ceremony, and something he certainly couldn't duck out of. The bleary eyed man would have to present it to the Jarl all smiles, and mingle with those he could surely do with not being around. 

 

“What a fine, marvelous ship!” The Jarl did not give praise lightly, but it did very little to brighten Barrow's mood as the sun stretched directly overhead. Barrow nodded, and gave a smile that wasn't entirely his own. Too thin, no teeth, and clearly not genuine. He only nodded and shown them the grandeur he had included, the storage spaces for loot – the hooks for extra oars, places to stow the sails. However, it was the serpent's head that was real hit. 

“I have never seen something so beastly,” the Jarl had grunted. Crawley, the stout man betrothed to the Jarl's daughter nodded. “It's easy to see how terrifying it'll be seeing that in the dead of night on the water. Like the shore serpent himself coming up to let loose the waves.” It earned Barrow a praising slap on the back and some terrible news. “You will be coming to the feast? We won't have no for an answer.” 

 

There went his afternoon nap. 

 

The feast, however, did not disappoint. Crawley roared on about raids to their southern neighbors, the Jarl's daughter positively was swooning at the gifts Crawley laden upon her, and many fighting men swore their allegiance, Barrow included. It was best to get in with the next ruler's good graces. The Jarl was a fine man indeed, but with a worsening cough that the gods would collect him sooner than later. The shipbuilder promised to build the family whatever they needed, and all would be fearsome. 

Barrow contented himself with free food that both soon to be combined families provided. He speared onions and mutton at the end of his knife, wagging it at children who thought his lap would be a good seat after their parents had slacked off drunk. “Go on now, get.” 

“But we want to see the boat,” the bravest, a lass, said with her hands on her hip. 

“I'll send you all to Helheim in my boat if you don't get a move on.” They were undeterred, Barrow's words only served to increase their whining up an octave. 

Barrow leaned in close to them, as though telling a secret. “If you go ask Too-Tall, I'm sure he'll give you a sweet.” The children exchanged glances, it was a gamble. Too-Tall was dreadfully kind, even a bit thick, but wouldn't just give his work away for free. “If you tell him you need them for the faeries he just might let you. But don't forget to leave a sweet out in the wood for them.” 

That sealed the deal, Too-Tall couldn't appear unkind to children under the Jarl's nose, and certainly not ones so keen on appeasing tricksy spirits. 

 

“Barrow is it?” Crawley had found Barrow set on a hewed log bench balancing a little blonde girl on his knee who desperately needed to know more about faeries. Did they live on a boat with Barrow? Why wasn't Barrow's Beard as big as her papas? Where was his children? Where faeries even at home in the flowers when it was muddy? What was their favorite flavor cake? Could she have a sip of that smelly stuff in the horn? Do you think faeries have beards?

Thankful for the distraction Barrow set the little girl on her way who wriggled amidst the snoring drunkards to sleep. Children were much loved in the village, and instantly someone passed her along to her mother. Barrow turned back to Crawley after he knew the little girl was safe in her mother's arms.

 

“I am taking my men south. I will need someone who is familiar with the boat incase there is need of repairs, can I count on you to come with me?” Crawley stated more than asked. There was no refusing such an offer by a high ranking man, at least, without bringing shame upon him. 

“Of course. When will we be departing?” Barrow's throat was dry. His mother, a shieldmaiden did not come back from a raid – ascending to Valhalla before Barrow was old enough to be given his first bow. His father became more reckless in battle, determined to meet his mother in the Warrior's Hall. A few summers prior he achieved his wish – gutting a knight but only to be met with another's blade.  
There was of course honor in such actions, but honor didn't keep one alive.

“Tomorrow.” Crawley said. “I've known about the boat for seasons, I plan on bringing whatever we score to Mary for her wedding gift.” Tomorrow. Oh dear, this really wasn't Barrow's day. 

“Have I need for a blade?” 

“Oh no, just whatever you need to fix anything that might go awry. I will pay you at the end of it all.” 

 

That was a relief at least. In his youth, he was thrown in a raid. It was in the middle terrible season riddled with disease, and many youngins were put behind a shield before they could see up over it. There had been only a few fistfuls of loot to pay for the lives of slaughtered children, and none went to those who survived. It was had been one of the brutal last deeds of the former Jarl, before the current one had slain him and took his place.

 

Fog crept over the sea like any morning, but Barrow would have really preferred seeing it from the shore. He rowed beside many others, and slept below the sails it struck his fancy. He had no interest in anything other than smoking smashed angelica and staring out at the rolling waves before him. Thor did most of the work, beating on his anvil and stirring up waves. The ship bobbed off its course , but was corrected quickly by the deftness of Crawley's experienced men.

Hours bled into days of salted fish, skunked ale, and throwing a bucket of shit over the front of the deck. But life at sea was never glamorous. The men grew impatient and sharpened their axes on whetstones and frequently brawled, which only served to dangerously tip the boat. Barrow kept away, not being one of muscle and rage, and minded the sails. He amused himself by hiding high up and dropping bits of things down onto the heads of sleeping drunks. 

 

 

Land was the most Odin-bless thing Barrow has ever seen. Night after night sleeping with some drunk's armpit in his face, and another's knee between his ribs was enough to drive him mad. The endless rocking of the ship soured whatever was in his belly, and made many drunk's empty theirs into the waves. Crawley spotted it first, pointing wildly at the gulls and the scape of the rocky inland. “Yes, this is definitely it,” the blond had said. But Barrow had a feeling that Crawley would have said this for any bit of land that have found to get off the sea. 

 

The shieldmen dropped onto the white sand, and Barrow stayed with an axe tucked into his belt to guard the boat. As if it needed guarding, it was good and far from the shore now, and peasant villages couldn't know what to do with such a boat that could only rowed by so many men. Barrow could hear the screams ring out from over the beach, the bellows of the men he had shared the boat with, the frantic neighing screams of horses. It was a good raid, but he couldn't find much feeling knowing it was what had brought his family to Valhalla. 

 

Instead, he found himself wishing safety from Freya for the crew. He pricked his fingers on the axe tip, letting them bleed to appease her – promising a handsome goat of his as soon as his boots hit his motherland. Barrow pressed his finger tips to his mouth, there up high in the sails, whispering that no death will come into his blood, as though if he prayed that perhaps his family could some how be brought back to him. 

 

The raid was not without death. Crawley was fine and well, carrying a heavy cloth filled with something clanking and golden, things jangled from ever man's pockets – but an older, slower man had not been quick enough to escape a determined young man in the village. Who had been taken prisoner upon their ship. 

 

Barrow loosened the sails and adjusted the ropes, not wanting to include himself in the tallying of the treasure. Those who looked to keen became a target by more greedy men, to be killed off so they can be assured a larger share. Barrow handed his axe back to the silver-beared brute who leant it to him without a word. Crawley locked the loot under the their feet in the hold Barrow so carefully created, with stern words to all the raiding men. 

“This is accounted for, and belongs to his Jarl's daughter. Stealing any that is not paid to you, is stealing from the Jarl.” 

 

 

That was when Barrow first took notice of their prisoner. A young, man with a fiery glint in his eye, as though he dared any one of them to get closer – but thought better of it and kept his mouth snapped shut. Thin bodied but heavy shouldered, and a light crop of hair. He clearly was not having the time of his life being bound to the middle pillar of the boat. He spit and snapped his teeth at whoever came too close to him like some kind of beaten dog. 

Barrow brushed past him, not expecting the lad to survive the night, and partake in his share of turned ale. 

 

 

The night grew dark, then pink, the stars shown dangerously above. The wind whipped heavily ahead, and the sails, pulled them dangerously off course. Crawley was the first to sit up out of his celebratory drunken snooze. Buckets of rain started to pour on them, Thor beat his anvil in the skies above the warning hung heavy in the air. Barrow was pulled too his feet jolting him from his dead sleep. The rain plastered his hair to his face, and his clothes started to grow heavy with water. 

“Barrow you need to to get the sails down,” Crawley yelled through the wind. 

“Needs more than just me, not a brute either.” Barrow yelled back eyeing each person, and shook his head gravely when Crawley began to offer himself. 

“Him,” Crawley jerked his head in the direction of wide-eyed captive. 

“I'll be killed,” the prisoner snapped. 

“Yes better you than me,” Crawley said without remorse as he cut the ropes from the captive's wrists. 

 

Barrow studied the rain plastered stranger carefully. “You will need listen to me, and be very careful as you climb.” The prisoner nodded.

 

Barrow let the stranger climb up before he, to keep an eye on the inexperienced man's movements. Calling up which direction to move in and where to put his hands to make the climb. Barrow followed up quickly. Barrow moved around the other man with practiced grace, snagging lines and shoving them into the prisoners hands, and putting himself in the way of the falling sail to kept the heavy, wet cloth from hitting the stranger. 

“Sails are tricky things,” Barrow grunted as he grabbed a hold and lowered it as gently as he could to the crew waiting below them. “ Tug on the ropes and don't let them slack until its all the way down.” For once throughout this ordeal the captive complied without question. 

“Well done -” Barrow paused and looked at the other man. 

“Jimmy,” the prisoner supplied, “Not that it really matters.” 

Barrow gripped Jimmy's forearm and shook. “A little bravery can get you a long way here.” 

 

 

It proved to be a miserable sail home. The sea wouldn't settle, even if the rains were stopped. Jimmy's hands stayed bound, but he wasn't roped to the ship – a few minutes tired too a bobbing ship caused more vomit than any seafaring man had seen in their entire lifetime. Instead, he dawdled the expanse of the ship. He occasionally exchanged words with Crawley who asked of what other treasures could be found, with less than satisfying answers. It turned out Jimmy's village was smack in the middle of nowhere, confirming Barrow's belief of Crawley being lost. 

 

Jimmy followed Barrow more often than not. Jimmy stood under the sails with his head up as Barrow worked them deftly. Barrow, not a man for much talk, could admit the idle chatter made the long days at see go by quicker. 

“So are you a sailor?” 

Sailor, now that was a strange word. “No,” Barrow said thickly around nails he had in his mouth as he hammered one into a storm splintered board. His sleeves rolled up, getting a bit miserable and hot in the direction sun. “I build boats.” 

“But you're out on one now.”

“As a special request, or I would have no ordinarily done so.” 

“My father sailed.” Jimmy kept right at it, clearly undeterred by the bindings on his wrists or the side eyed looks he was getting from men far larger than he. “He traded spice and fur.” 

Barrow looked thoughtfully down at Jimmy. The blonde peered up, the more threatening of his captors to his back where he did not have to look at them. “My father raided as did my mother, may they always feast in Valhalla.” 

“Is that like vanilla?” 

Barrow felt the iron nails drop from his lips and clatter a long way below him. Just how far from home where they? How does one not know of Valhalla? “But you know of Thor?” Barrow watched Jimmy's lips move silently in prayer during the storm – to Thor surely. 

“I don't think I have?” Barrow didn't have to look to know Jimmy was frowning as he spoke. 

Barrow lowered himself to collect the fallen nails and to lower their conversation to a whisper. “Best keep that to yourself then. We live our lives for our gods, and die for our gods.” He couldn't forget the maddened spell that came over his father to die in battle so he could be reunited with his wife. The nights pleading to Father Odin, and watching the skies for his dark birds. The goat he himself had promised Freya when the soles of his leather boots hit the mud of home. 

Jimmy looked as though he was about to argue, but thought better of it. “I think that would be a good idea.” 

 

 

The end of their voyage could not end soon enough. Another man died in the night after ignoring Crawley's warnings about spoiled food. They were starving, stinking, and sweating. Barrow found himself in the company of Jimmy often, now that the seas had settled and the boat was mended. The talked well past the other men sleeping. The carried on in a whisper, their breath clouding and mixing among the angelica smoke. 

“Barrow, where am I going?” 

Hearing his name being so plainly spoken gave his belly a sort of flipping feeling that had nothing to do with the sea. 

“Home.” 

Jimmy didn't reply, but only dejectedly propped his chin up on his bound hands. 

“Its north?” Barrow offered as thought of a better way of describing it. “Lots of farms. Lots of trees, and farms. There's snow-” 

Jimmy looked perplexed at that. 

“Like rain but colder.” 

“I'm beginning to see why most of you are the size of a house.” 

To that Barrow could only smile, a genuine with a flash of teeth and the left a bit more upturned than the right. 

“We give any reason to feast and drink,” 

“Far less merriment in my village then.” Jimmy's gaze was dark, but softened when he turned it towards Barrow. “How come you're the only one willingly to talk on this thing?” And it was true, after Crawley found Jimmy's answers to be useless he left him alone. The crew only conversed about men they killed during the raid (which Barrow politely spoke loudly over so Jimmy would not have to hear it) or to gamble whatever claim to the loot they thought they had away to one another. 

“Crawley,” Barrow nodded toward him. “He's one who cares about expanding his wallet to provide for his family. The rest...probably the same, and for glory. “ 

“You said you were only voyaging as a special request?” 

“To mind the boat for Crawley. It is his to-be wife's dowry and I suspect he wants it to stay in good condition.” 

“But no glory and riches?”

“My family died for 'glory',” the words felt sour on Barrow's tongue. “Money on raids is for those with young ones, or to take with them in the afterlife.” 

Jimmy was confused, but did not press the matter. “No little bundles of horror then?” 

“Oh gods no. Tersta's lass is enough to make me go gray. Before I left for this she wouldn't let me rest until I figured out what kind of berries faeries like the best.”

 

 

Barrow was the first to spot land. He drummed his hands on the side of the boat and shouted across the water to the swatch of land in the distance. There was no mistaking it this time, this was home. Even from a distance Barrow could see the slopes of the hills and the dark beaches. “Finally. I could kiss the ground,” Jimmy said from somewhere behind Barrow. 

Barrow felt his mouth go dry. Jimmy was a prisoner, the Jarl's property. Barrow had seen some strung up by their toes before being eviscerated, or some toiling in fields until their fingers crippled. This was going to have to take some careful thought and wordweaving. From above him he heard a raven's caw, it allowed him to relax a little. Fate was always in the god's hands.

 

When they docked Crawley had the crew leave the ship, much to all of their dismay, letting the Jarl's personal guards take the loot to the Longhouse. Which included Jimmy. Barrow followed the rest of the crew and kept his head down. He mastered his face to let the worry drip from it and to replace by eagerness like the rest of the men dying to get their share. 

 

Crawley and the Jarl rummaged through the plunder keeping the best pieces for themselves and reserving others for lean times in the village. It was maddening, knowing Jimmy had to stand like a sold bull. Barrow was relieved at least that Jimmy was doing his best to keep quiet. 

“Thank you, to all of you.” The Jarl bellowed across the hall and over cheers of the villagers who gathered. “You have gathered more than I could ever believe was just south of us. You all will be awarded accordingly. There is enough left for you to take whatever you can carry – but not any more.” 

It was generous, but the Jarl's guardsmen watched the crew closely for signs of them tucking things into pockets and boots. Barrow hung back, making himself look interested in certain pieces as the other men fought with one another the best trinkets. Barrow slowly made his way over to Jimmy, who gazed at him uncertainly. 

It was clear Jimmy had rougher treatment being off the ship for less than an hour, than he had the whole voyage. His split lip bled when he offered a small smile. Barrow looked to Crawley who was occupied with offering a new necklace to Mary. Barrow quickly seized Jimmy around the middle and hoisted him over his shoulder. 

Barrow hushed Jimmy's surprised noise. “Just play the part,” he whispered to him. He took his place in line along the men with arms laden in gold. A few sniggered at Barrow, but he only lifted his chin and carried Jimmy on his shoulder without breaking a sweat. For what seemed like an eternity, the Jarl turned to them. 

“What in the name of Father Odin!” He snarled. 

Barrow felt Jimmy flinch, but he kept his face composed. “I was told we could keep what we could carry. I could use someone to bring down the trees I need for building.” 

The Jarl stared at Barrow a moment, it wasn't an uncommon fact that the shipbuilder was particular about his craft. “Are you sure?” He sounded more surprised than angry now, at least. “There surly are more things valuable in this room.” 

He was sure he felt Jimmy swear against the fabric of his tunic. “To me there is nothing more valuable than building the fine ships that support our way of life.” 

To his surprise he found Crawley nodding. “Our first night on our way back they both kept us from flipping by working the sails, and I am sure I heard the prisoner say his father knew his way around boats. I think Barrow is chose well.” 

The Jarl waved his many ringed hand at them. “I just don't want to here how you came out of this worse than the others. If you are sure you may go, but I don't want to hear another word of it.” 

 

When he left the long house, Barrow only then dared to set Jimmy down as though afraid the Jarl would suddenly change his mind. 

“Thanks for that,” Jimmy looked somewhere over Barrow's shoulder. Clearly embarrassed from being manhandled. 

Barrow gripped Jimmy's forearm and shook, he was surprised to feel Jimmy return the foreign gesture. “I told you bravery goes a long way here.” 

“And a smooth tongue.” 

 

“This is it.” Barrow said, somewhat ashamed. His home was a wreck, he had spent the time before voyage working and passing out in the corner with a drinking horn in his hands. Someone, probably Tersta, gods bless her, had the thought to check in on his home and clear the rotting food from the table and larder. 

 

“It's much better than a boat,” Jimmy nodded. 

 

“Give your hands here,” Barrow held out a knife and cut the thick coil of rope from Jimmy's wrist. 

“Oh,” The relieved sound Jimmy made a warmth rise in Barrow's chest. “That is much better, thank you.” 

“R-Right.” Barrow said, snapping to attention. “I'm sick of smelling like sea, if you don't mind the chill there's a spot to bathe.” 

The look Jimmy gave made it painfully clear that he did mind the chill. Suddenly Barrow felt stupid for not remembering he was from a more summery climate. 

“I can put water on the fire, but it'll take a while.” 

“We've got time to wait. I don't mind stinking so long as there's something more than salt fish here.” 

 

In fact there was. Barrow drug split wood to the hearth and let the flames get good and hot. He buried parsnips in the ash and spiked salted mutton over the fire. 

“Mostly we bathe out in the water, except when it ices over,” Barrow explained as he pushed a large basin in the room. It was fashioned from some sort of soft metal and was clearly banged from a crude hammer. Bucket after Bucket of water was taken off the fire and poured in between picking at the food that finally warmed. 

“I'll see if I can find you something clean to wear if you want to go on ahead.” Jimmy could only mumble his thanks sleepily, not used to good ale and good food. Barrow however was acutely aware of the sounds of Jimmy settling himself in the small tub and sloshing water on the wood floor. He rummaged through his chest of clothing to busy himself as he let the other man settle. It's been an unsettling thing to go through, the least he could do is let him bathe in peace. 

 

After pacing the storage room, and refolding the clothes he got for Jimmy for the umpteenth time he let himself go back out in main room. Barrow found Jimmy to be sitting in the tub long ways, with his knees up and his head resting against them. He looked the epitome of exhausted, which gave another strange twist in Barrow's heart. He was beginning to wonder if the sea had somehow not agreed with him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> m/m sex in this chapter, turn away ye faint of hearts.

It took a few moments to wake Jimmy. Barrow splashed water in the other mans face, which only elicited an angry snore. The shipbuilder gripped Jimmy's warm shoulder and let his grip linger a moment. Jimmy started rouse as Barrow started to move his hand away. 

“Quiet horses,” Jimmy grunted as he finally opened an eye and patted Barrow on the side of the face like he was placating a spooked stallion. 

 

Barrow smiled and shook Jimmy's shoulder again. “Up you get now, you'll freeze if you're not careful.” 

Jimmy groaned and stretched out of the water. Barrow tossed a towel to Jimmy and turned to busy himself while the other man dressed. The shipbuilder rolled out sheepskins and deer pelts on the floor to make a decent bed. It was getting really hard to push the sounds Jimmy was making as he stretched and dressed, out of his head. It was getting even harder to the feeling of a trapped bird in his chest. It felt as thought Barrow had to keep mind of it any moment or it would flutter out and away. Nakedness was nothing new to viking, but something about Jimmy...

“Can I sleep here?” Jimmy interrupted Barrow's train of thought. The alcohol didn't let him believe the kindness. The voyage, the mistreatment, and being “won” was wearing him a bit thin. 

“I'm not about to let you sleep outside, if that's what you were worried about.” Barrow nudged the a stuffed skin nearest to the fire. “I would warm up if I were you. Skadi will bring snow in the night.” 

Jimmy was far too tired and drunk to wonder what a Skadi was, instead he fell asleep face first in front of the fire. 

 

The first thing Jimmy was aware of was feeling more comfortable than he had been in a long time. Despite the ropeburn on his wrist that itched abominably and a stabbing pain in his head, he felt full and comfortable – and /so warm/. He had woken aching with cold and damp night after night on the ship, and swallowed his complaints to hide weakness. Here, he was content and warm – and something really warm was under his arm. 

Jimmy could feel the press of Barrow's against his side, sometime in the night he had thrown his arm over the other man. He slowly came to his senses. Jimmy could feel the warm rustle of breath against his shoulder. The sleeping Barrow didn't seem to mind the closeness, in fact he had his face smashed against Jimmy. On the voyage back to Barrow's village the crew slept together for warmth, but a respectful distance was maintained between Jimmy and Barrow as being piled all together was revolting after days of sun and sweat. 

This wasn't uncomfortable as Jimmy imagined, strange maybe but not terrible. Their combined heat trapped in the pelts and kept him warm despite being able to see his breath in the pale morning light. Jimmy stretched and propped himself on his elbows, the sudden movement made Barrow uncurl and rouse. 

 

“Góðan morgin,” came a thick, sleepy voice rumbled beside Jimmy. 

“Speak for yourself,” Jimmy pressed his fingers to his temple. 

Barrow rolled out from under the skins and was already pulling on his boots. He was always awake before the sun, but today he had more than just shipbuilding to worry about. 

“Freya needs a goat,” Barrow explained to Jimmy. He laced his boots quickly and kicked ash over the smoldering fire. He was in a hurry. He didn't want to face the warrior goddess's wrath for not sacrificing the goat earlier. 

Jimmy nodded, trying to absorb yet another new custom. “So is she going to come and get it?” 

Barrow's face grew serious. “ Never forget that you will have to be careful who hears things like that.” 

“You told me, I won't be forgetting. Now just who is 'Freya'? ” Jimmy assumed it was something ...spiritual. Barrow had warned him on the ship to hide the gap in his knowledge, the other man had rarely been so serious so he took great care to respect his words. 

Barrow stopped unlacing a spare set of boots for Jimmy. Freya summoned up fond memories of his mother. When he thought of Freya he saw his mother with her painted shield and spear, deadly and caring in the same moment. “She is love and life,” he tossed the boots to Jimmy. “She is who gives life and allows birth,” there was more - of course – but telling him the tale of her being kidnapped by Ice giants and taming her battleboar seemed to be far too childish. 

“And just how does one give her a goat?” It was a bit like Mother Mary who he had grown up with. However, priests never mentioned goats on Sunday morning.

“Blót.” Barrow inspected the edge of a antler-handled knife and tested it on his thumb. 

 

Blót, as it turned out to Jimmy's surprise, was a sacrifice. Jimmy carried a black and white spotted male through the snow. It was much too deep to let the goat scamper through, but the goat was not very happy about this arrangement. It bleated angrily and squirmed in Jimmy's arms. He would have liked to enjoy the thick layer of snow on the ground, and observe for more than a second how it hung of the tree branches – but the goat kept trying to smack its little horns against Jimmy's face. Barrow couldn't help but to laugh, he was doing that a lot lately thanks to Jimmy. If he wasn't careful his reputation of being stoic would crumble to pieces.

 

Despite several inches of snow on the ground, life went on as usual in the village. Children chased chickens in front of the long house, the the heavy ding-ding-ding of the smith's hammer echoed over the frozen grounds, and a ship's catch was being packed into snow to stay fresh. Gone was the foggy autumn from before the voyage. A woman Jimmy had yet to meet fell into step beside them. She was a short, squat woman, holding her skirt up and out of the snow. Her hair was flyway and as red as her face. Most curiously her eyes were milky and sightless. “I see you have much be thankful for Barrow.” Her tone was friendly, but implied something unspoken. 

“ I have to fufill a promise to Freya, Pahdmur.” Barrow didn't care much for the Seer. She was kindly, yes, but speaking to someone who had the ear of the gods frightened him. Knowing ones fate without living it first was an unsettling concept. 

“ My, My Jimmy.” The old young woman turned her unseeing gaze in the blonde's direction. “Seems you are a long way from home.” 

Jimmy's arms tightened around the goat. She somehow knew who he was and where he was from, without him speaking a word. There was much he didn't know about this strange place and its even stranger people, but he wasn't about to give himself away. “Yes. ” He said cooly, his lips turning upwards in a confident grin. “I'm learning quickly thanks to Barrow.” 

The Seer, however, said nothing and turned back to Barrow. “Such a goat for such a blessing. Would you like it read its entrails after then?”

“I should think not, Pahdmur.” Barrow said dryly. He never once indulged on her multiple offers to cast bones for him to find him a good wife, or her personal favorite how to dislodge the stick from his ass. 

“You really ought to be down, with your new ... friend.” 

“I'll be sure to do so.” Maybe when serpents grew legs. 

She narrowed her milky eyes at Barrow, but left without another word. “I've seen some crazy things, but that takes the lot.” Jimmy muttered. . 

“The god's took her sight and gave her the ability to see all. Pahdmur is well respected, but doesn't always know when she isn't welcome. ” Barrow explained when they closed themselves inside of the temple. 

 

Inside there was a single circular room. Flat stones lined the floor and the walls were lined with multiple statues. They were all carved from a rich, dark wood and polished brightly. The attendant to the temple took the goat and carried it to the altar where he washed the goat with water and bathed it in thick, white smoke from a censor. 

Barrow took Jimmy by the arm and lead him front of a statue towards the middle. Her arms were facing upwards and open as though she was about to embrace them. She was covered with armor and knotted clothing. Her hair and eyes were carved lifelike in the nut-brown wood. He arranged bruiseless apples in front of a carved wildcat at her feet. 

A miserable bleat and a heavy thud was the end of the goat. Jimmy was untroubled by the goat's death, but was silenced by Barrow when he started to speak. Barrow glanced towards the door. A few people were trying to peer inside, and some looked angry that a stranger was in their temple. 

 

The shipbuiler dipped his hands in the blood and drew a scarlet streak down the side of his face, and reached over to do the same to Jimmy. Jimmy leaned forward, fighting the disgust off of his face and swallowing down the bile that rose to his throat. The sour scent of blood filled his nostrils and left a sickly warm trail, over his right eye. 

Barrow gave him an encouraging smile, it steeled Jimmy enough to let him master his heaving stomach. The shipbuilder dipped his hand again in the pool of blood and rubbed it into the wooden figure of Freya, suddenly the rich color of the statues made sense to Jimmy. 

She who flies through the night,” Barrow whispered as he pressed his healing fingertips to his tongue. 

“She who taught Odin.” A candle was lit and placed at the goddess's feet. 

“She who protects us.” Jimmy could not deny that the atmosphere felt different in the room. It was wildly different from piling in the church once a week to listen to the graying priest.

“We thank you, she who has gifted us.” Barrow stuffed the goat's mouth with a few coins. A generous offering. 

“Teach us to live in honor, as we honor you.” 

Villagers began to duck out, disappointed. The composure of the two men, and the typical prayer didn't give much to gossip about. And certainly nothing to drag someone out in the middle of the square and beat them bloody over.

 

“Embrace us as your children,” Barrow's professional tone lowered to one more personal. He let himself go to his knees and close his eyes now that so many people were not observing. He felt Jimmy's knees at his shoulders, it was a comforting sort of feeling. Jimmy couldn't helped but to be a bit moved, despite the blood crusting over his eye. It was beautiful – in a fierce way that the God he was raised with was not. 

 

“We thank you for your presence and your blessings.” Barrow concluded. 

“Thank you,” Jimmy said with more feeling than Barrow expected. 

 

 

“But you don't eat it?” Jimmy asked under his breath when the had left. 

“They will bury the goat since Freya saw it pleasing, and let it rot to help grow new life. Just as Freya governs.” 

“I'm guessing I need to keep this on my face until I rot then?”

“Right you are, Jimmy.” 

 

Jimmy felt his mouth go a bit dry when Barrow said his name with a teasing smile. He looked to Barrow's face but only found his gaze traveling over his body. The moment was broken by Pahdmur pushing between them. Her manners lost by something agitating her. “Barrow I insist you come with me. Bring your 'friend' if you must.” She grabbed Barrow by the arm and started pulling him to her room in the longhouse. 

Jimmy had to run to keep up with old woman, but his mind was racing ever faster with the thought of Barrow's gaze lingering over him like that. 

 

Barrow had just about enough of her song and dance, ear of the god's or not she couldn't just string him along like a misbehaving child. He yanked his wrist from her grasp“What in the name of Thor is going on?” His gray eyes flashed, Jimmy felt himself flinching from Barrow's sudden rage. He hadn't liked the seer himself, but he hadn't seen Barrow so angry before. 

“I can't be sayin' it here you dimglow.” 

Barrow's teeth clenched and he let out a long breathe through his nose. 

 

Her bunk in the longhouse was filled with things Jimmy had never seen before. It was filled with a sickeningly floral scent. Twisting, thorned herbs hung from every available space and crumpled when you bumped into the them. Heavy sheep skulls hung up over the braziers, casting a distorted light. Crabclaws, animal teeth, human finger joints - coins with their faces rubbed off – littered a board with lines scoured in the middle of it. Jimmy raised his hand to brush the litter aside to see the pattern underneath. 

“Do you dare touch it,” the fire in her vacant eyes was fearsome. 

“It's how she speaks to gods,” Barrow leaned in to whisper. Jimmy felt the intimate brush of Barrow's lips against his ears. It made the blood fush to his face. 

“I don't see how you would know Barrow, you never pay me a visit.” Pahdmur settled herself at the board, and lifted each object very lightly and turned each one over in her fingers. Her hands pressed down to feel the grooves of the board. Her normally fluid movements were hindered by her shaking hands. Whatever she had read must have deeply disturbed her. 

She lifted an empty crabshell to her mouth and whispered over it. “Ravens roosted on top of the Temple while you two were in there. Something powerful happened there, and the god's noticed without my intervention.” 

Was there? Jimmy hadn't noticed, but he hadn't exactly been raised to know the signs of nature.   
It would hardly surprise him with the winter he was having. 

 

“Odin knows you do not risk yourself for glory, that is our way.” She gave him a long stare.   
“You're at a split path, if you're not careful you could lose something.” 

Was that it? A vague warning? Men pointed out over the sea for at the number of gulls every morning too see if a day's sailing might be too risky. Barrow had no interest in going to Valhalla with a warrior's death, surely he would lose that in the end anyway. 

“Its good to know I wasted my time for a few birds.” He folded his hands and leaned forward. 

“A warnin' that clear shouldn't be ignored,” she growled a few inches from Barrow's nose. 

Barrow didn't flinch. “Thank you ... for your time, but we really out to be going.” 

 

Weeks passed and no sign of the warning that upset Pahdmur surfaced. Eventually, Barrow forgotten all about the omen and pushed it off to Pahdmur drinking some mugwort in her tea. The marriage of Crawley and Mary drew closer as the days grew shorter and shorter. Barrow and Jimmy spent their days working on ships. A new one bobbed in the gray waters for Crawley, who was so impressed by the dowry boat that he needed to have another. Progress was significantly slower when these two worked together. They found themselves in the half-finished sails with their feet dangling and passing smoke leaf back and forth. They spent most of their time looking out over the icy sea, faces red from the wind, talking and occasionally scheming where unwelcome ears couldn't hear them. 

Barrow blew smoke slowly from his nose, grinning at Jimmy's idea. Barrow didn't know if he was surprised or impressed by the ingenuity that Jimmy possessed. 

“So,” he passed the smoldering, crumpled leaf over. “We hide our surplus in whatever longship we're working on?” 

“The beauty of it is when the Jarl's men come counting possessions for a tax – they won't look in the boat. It's going to belong to Mary anyway. All you'd need to do is keep it hidden in some spare sails.” 

So simple, but so ridiculously brilliant. Barrow didn't have the Fenrir-looking hounds like Mosely to scare the guardsmen into be lenient, so any advantage was worth risking. Barrow let out a puff of smoke, “Perfect.” Like the Barrow's smile, Jimmy found himself thinking. Like his miserable wit when he was tired, short manner with those who were too nosy - 

To Jimmy's sudden relief Barrow broke off his train of thought. “Best we pack up for the day. I don't want to climb down in the dark.” 

 

At night they curled together, at first using the excuse of cold when they pressed their bodies close together. Lips would brush skin and press against hair in the darkness – and there wasn't quite an excuse for that. Barrow, who was always out of bed before first light, found himself drowsing next to Jimmy until past sunhigh. Both content, warm, and unwilling to be the first to move. 

The fire smoldered low on the coldest night night of the year, even the most flammable bits of tinder refuse to stay lit for long.The clouds were thick and heavy overhead with snow, every surface on the ground was covered with a sheet of ice. Cold blew from under the door through the thatched roof. The sleeping men's breath clouded in the air over them, chin's tucked to shoulders, knees pressed between one anothers. 

 

Jimmy woke to the feeling of lips pressed against his own. He didn't immediately register what was going the near-complete darkness. He could feel the brush of Barrow's fingers under his chin – hear the small contented sound that came from his own throat – feel his heart jump into his throat. It was a tentative kiss, soft and closed. 

He stayed still a moment, feigning sleep and forcing his breathing even and still. Jimmy felt Barrow break away and sweep his thumb over his jaw. Before Barrow could move away, Jimmy leaned up. He bumped his nose against Barrow's chin, his hands found both sides of his face and pulled him in closer. Any word of surprise Barrow might have said was silenced by Jimmy's mouth over his. 

There was no tenderness, no inquiring. There was no guessing anymore, they knew where each other stood. It was soft nips, struggling tongues. Each knew where the other stood. All inhibitions were cast off in the darkness, hands greedily soaked in touch that was far too long made of 'accidental' brushes and sleepy grasps. They parted, Jimmy turned on his side to face Barrow, whose face was inches from his own. The shipbuilder pressed his lips to Jimmy's again, his body warming at the feel of stubble brushing against his cheek. He could feel the upturn of Jimmy's lips as though smiling, a soft exhale as though to say finally.

Their bodies pressed against one another, shirts were ripped off by hands eager for more flesh. Barrow ran his mouth of Jimmy's throat. His tongue and lips painting out blessings to Freya. Jimmy pressed his teeth against Barrow's neck. His mouth was pressed against where he could feel the pulse leaping. He scraped against the sensitive flesh and kissed it wetly. He was rewarded with a soft moan and a hand lazily ruffling through his hair. Barrow hooked his leg over Jimmy's hip, determined to bring the man who fell so unexpectedly into his life closer to him. 

Jimmy grabbed Barrow's ass to press him roughly against his hardness. They moved against one another, fumbling with each other's trousers with shaking hands. Their tongues mapped each other's mouths as they found a steady rhythm.

Barrow moved over Jimmy. His hands splayed somewhere near Jimmy's shoulders, his knees against Jimmy's hips. Then sudden change to a submissive position made Jimmy arch his hips and moan out his frustration. Barrow reached between them, his hand looping around their cocks. He swept his thumb over Jimmy's while cursing the darkness, unable to see the face Jimmy made. Jimmy had his face pressed against Barrow's shoulders, his nails now digging into Barrow's back. Barrow lazily moved his fist up and down, savoring the breathy noises Jimmy was making against his ear. Jimmy's legs coiled around his hips and tensed whenever Barrow picked up the pace. Both men were felt as though fire surged through their veins, despite the clouds of breath that had to be pouring from mouths. 

Barrow rolled his hips against Jimmy, eliciting an approving moan from the other man. His free hand was rubbing up the sensitive flesh of Jimmy's thigh. The blonde shifted his legs to unashamedly give more space for Barrow to rut against. Jimmy's hands roamed over Barrow to map out his favorite spots, to tweak nipples, and brush against the dark trail of soft hair. 

“More,” Jimmy managed to get out. The first word spoken between them in the dark, their mouths had been too busy and neither man wanted to sound as needy as the felt. 

Barrow's mouth brushed against Jimmy's forehead. “Are you sure?” He already felt as though he was going to burst, he didn't know how he was going to hold off any longer. 

He felt Jimmy nod.

 

Barrow kissed the side of his face and moved downward. His mouth pressing against every available bit of flesh. His teeth making bruises at Jimmy's collar bone, fingers making like scratches into the flesh. He ran his lips against the silk-like hair past Jimmy's navel.   
Barrow knelt and kissed the tip of Jimmy's cock. Mouth open, tongue swirling against the flesh. The sounds Jimmy were almost inhuman. Barrow pressed his hand firmly down on Jimmy's hip that struggled to buck into Barrow's mouth. His tongue swiped down the back of the shaft, his head bobbed to take the length. 

Pre coated his tongue and he swallowed down the saltiness with a moan. He felt Jimmy writhe beneath him, desperately trying to buck his hips upward. Barrow moaned against the flesh, overcome with his own desire he pressed his cock into against their makeshift mattress. 

Suddenly Jimmy felt nothing around his cock but the chill in the air. His hand traveled downward to grab a fistful of Barrow's dark hair. He let his hand drop when he felt Barrow lap at his entrance. The sensation was so strange, so sensitive that he could only hold still and let the sensations flood over him. Barrow felt the band of flesh relax and swiped his tongue inward. He felt Jimmy's legs close around him. After a few moments, Barrow leaned up and wiped his mouth. 

“I'll be right back.”

“Of course you would get up. Now I'm going to freeze to death down here.” Jimmy's voice was breathless and lacked its usual bite. 

Jimmy didn't have long to wait in misery. Barrow came back fumbling in the dark with a tin of hemp oil warming between his palms. 

He settled back down between Jimmy's legs and ran his tongue over his cock again. The sudden change of temperature made him cry out. Barrow dipped his fingers in the oil and pressed his fingers against Jimmy. Waiting again for him to relax before dipping a finger in. The sensation wasn't terrible. The feeling of Barrow's warm mouth over his cock took the edge off of the burning in his ass. Barrow kept a rhythm of moving his mouth down over the shaft and crooking his finger. He added a second, then a third making Jimmy writhe above him. 

When Barrow felt Jimmy pressing down against his hand, he moved his hands against thigh. He gave a sharp nip before kissing the flesh there. He coated his cock in oil and rubbed it against Jimmy's ass, earning him a very impatient huff. Barrow felt his toes curl and his eyes squeeze shut when he pressed into Jimmy. The heat was intense, almost as intense as the sudden tightness. 

Jimmy arched his hips, determined to pull Barrow deeper. The slow pace was driving him out of his mind, if he didn't come as soon as possible he might go crazy. Barrow thrust into him with such tenderness that it made him cry out against the other man's neck. He let his head loll back and felt Barrow press his forehead against his own. Barrow was trying to read the man for signs of discomfort and trying desperately not to release right away. 

Barrow slowed his pace, taking longer deeper thrusts. Feeling balls hitting his ass, Jimmy's mind went blank. His hips arched upward on instinct, trying to take the man deeper into him. Whenever Barrow's cock was almost pulled out , Jimmy impatiently snapped his hips to bring Barrow back into him. 

Moans filled the air, and a pleasure filled whimper escaped Barrow's lips. A familiar tightness was building in his belly. Barrow gave a series of short, sharp thrusts before emptying himself into the other man. Spray after spray of seed flowed into Jimmy who just couldn't take it anymore. He cried out at the sudden warmth filling him. His own cock spurted against his belly sullying him and Barrow. His vision went white around the edges. They both pressed kisses against one another in a daze. 

 

Barrow pulled out of Jimmy and kicked the tin of oil out of the way. 

“I could really, really use a smoke but I think you fucked the legs right off of me.” 

Barrow lazily grinned in the dark. He wiped himself and Jimmy off, and did his best to ignore the wet spots on the pelt the were laying on. They passed of a pipe of angelica back and forth. Both too tired, too fucked for words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter brought to you by Mystic's Dream by Loreena Mckennit and the letter Q.   
> I started fixing the spelling issues in chapter one, hooooo man. Thanks for all the really great comments guys ;~; It really means a lot.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy is a silly flirt, there's a royal wedding, and wow look a Sybil.

The afternoon of Crawley and Mary's binding looked as though it was a going to be a sunny one. The snow had long since melted – giving way to the early warm, humid rains of spring. New plant-growth was being eaten by newly dropped goats. The morning sun filtered in splotches through the towering trees around the village, burning up some of the ocean's perpetual mist. 

Beams of sunshine fell across the lazing Barrow who had his head pressed against Jimmy's chest, savoring the rumbling in Jimmy's chest as he struggled to pronounce unfamiliar words.   
“I-boh-lec?” 

“Imbloc.” 

“Imbloc.” Jimmy repeated into Barrow's hair, lips against scalp. Gods how he liked the way it smelt after he spent the day morning out in the sun. 

“It's supposed to be a lucky day to be wed,” Barrow explained.

“Like on a rainy day?” Jimmy knew of such traditions, all women wanted was to be married on a rainy day and to sleep with their husbands with eggs under the bedframe. Jimmy didn't have to look down to know that Barrow's face grew tight with confusion and was staring off in wonder a moment. 

“A rainy wedding sounds dreadful. The clouds would have Thor glowering right over it all.” Barrow's confusion turned into teasing, gentled by his hands running over Jimmy's. “Imbloc is the time when calves are borne, it'll help please the gods into giving Mary a strong son.” It made as much sense as anything Jimmy learned in his time with Barrow, nevertheless he filed it away for safe keeping.

 

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the got themselves ready for the ceremony, It was to be a lavish thing, and Barrow had absolutely no interest in going. Some time ago he would have wanted to miss it to catch up on his work or sleep, but now all he could think of was walking into the woods or to the shore and trading words with Jimmy. 

He would have liked more than anything just to blend into the crowd and keep an eye on Jimmy who hadn't gone to such a huge gathering in the presence of the Jarl's family. That, of course, would be rude to not present his personal contribution to the Lady Mary. They did their best to look sharp. Boots were cleaned, rabbit skin cloaks were brushed out and fluffed to fill out the fraying edges. They yanked a fine toothed comb through each other's hair, painfully pulling out fairy-curls. Barrow had no interest in looking shabby before Crawley. Barrow already had his foot in the door by providing him a strong ship and a successful raid, so it was time to keep up the appearances. One can never have too many advantages. 

The rest of the village were in various states of impressive dress. The merchants wore clothes of fine make and impressive dyes, their arms heavy with gifts for Mary in hopes of gaining Crawley's favor. The less than well off were clean and presentable, dragging the nicest animal in their small herd behind them. The acolytes of the temple selected the best animals and presented them to Freya and Odin, to get their attention down on the pair to be wed. 

Jimmy was at a bit of a loss as to what to do. Marriages in his home were simple, even for someone of high breeding. Pretty clothes, a priest splashing water on them, drinking from a cup, and all ending with a kiss. It seemed the entire village had come out and were crowding for a spot outside of the time.   
Animals kicked and butted against everyone's legs. Naughty children were passed from person to person until they finally got the arms of their mother. 

All but Tersta's little Hiela, who was always ignored her mother and went directly for Barrow. 

“What's that?” 

She pointed to oar Barrow was carrying. It was a work of beauty – knots were carved out of sides, the handle was a sleeping dragon. The skiff he and Jimmy built was for Crawley and Mary's personal use, it was of find craftsmanship but it was far more romantic than practical. 

Barrow leaned down to be at the little girl's eyelevel. “For Lady Mary. Did you bring her a present?” 

Her eyes were as wide as saucers. “No! I didn't know!” 

Jimmy felt himself beginning to grin. Anyone would have mistaken Barrow for teasing the girl, but he instantly picked up on the gentleness in the other man's tone. 

“I bet if you pick some flowers she would really like them,” Barrow scooted her along. “But you'll have to be quick.” 

 

By the time Hiela squeezed back into the crowd the ceremony was beginning. 

Crawley and Mary were both lead in by the priest. Their respective families stood beside the statues, looking out of place with their too-fine clothes and sweeping gazes. Crawley offered an axe from his side to the Jarl with a low bow, who accepted it and officially presented his daughter for marriage. 

The priest spoke in hushed tones over the couple, wafting smoke over them, and was spinning them around. He tipped his head skywards begging for Freya's attention and brandished a cloth .Jimmy would have laughed at the absurdity of it all if it wasn't for Barrow whispering his ear to explain what was happening. 

“The smoke made their spirits clean to keep away bad times in their marriage. With Freya's blessing that cloth will bind their spirits together.” 

Jimmy fought hard to push down a silly little blush that threatened to creep over his face. He found it harder and harder to focus on the red cloth being wound around the arms of Crawley and Mary when Barrow's lips moved so close to his ear. He threw on his best gambling face and stared vacantly forward. 

Barrow wasn't oblivious of the effect he was having. It was taking an extreme amount of self-control to keep himself from pressing his lips to skin and pulling Jimmy closer in front of the entire village. While neither man hid their affections, it was for the best that the did not fuel the village who had been so keen on condemning them in that very temple the season before. They had many private places untouched by the gazes of others. Neither of the men felt any sadness when they knew they were hours from a night walk on the shoreline and screwing each other senseless in the tide. But god, did they make it tough on each other. 

Jimmy reached by Barrow's shoulders to straighten the cloak's clasp. His fingers lingered at Barrow's neckline, and approved the way his face flushed. “Can't have you looking less than your best.” 

 

The celebrations afterwards made up for the cramped conditions and horrible smell of the temple incense. The longhouse had its extra furnishings removed and was decorated by the Jarl's daughters. Unopened spring blooms were in every corner, making the entire room smell like incoming spring. The hearth's were lit, and the tables were groaning from the weight of food. Mary and Crawley sat together on the Jarl's chair away from the villagers to mingle with their families. 

 

It didn't take long for Hiela to find where Jimmy and Barrow had settled themselves. She wedged her way between them and put her little arms around them both. 

“Barrow, Mary liked my flowers!” 

Jimmy chuckled into the roll he was digging into. 

Hiela whipped her head around. “Excuse me, but I wasn't talking to you.” Her tone had all the venom of her mother's. 

“Careful Jimmy. I saw her shoot a boy wouldn't leave her alone in arse with her Papa's bow.” He grinned into his cup seeing that Jimmy was completely horrified. 

“Jimmy? Is that like a fairy name?” Her animosity suddenly vanished. She spun herself around to look at the foreigner. She pulled at her light hair to compare it to Jimmy's. “You must be, Mama says this hair is fairy hair.” 

“That's right, maybe if you're lucky he'll dance with you.” Barrow gave Jimmy a friendly slap on the back. 

Jimmy hadn't danced so much as picked Hiela up and spun her around. Downingreat trees and cutting them in to boards hadn't done much to prepare him for how heavy a little girl could be when she just didn't want to be put down. As the evening wore on, Barrow was finally called to present his gift to Mary and Crawely. 

Barrow gave a dramatic, sweeping bow and held the carved oar before them. 

“My assistant and I have made you a private ship for you both. It is as fine as your raiding ship, and is meant to accompany it out on the sea.” 

Mary looked a bit put off by going anywhere out on the ocean. She turned the oar over in her hands, and ran her fingers over the fine carving. “It is very pretty.”Crawley was positively overjoyed.   
“The most thoughtful thing we've received all day. I'm sure it is a fine vessel.” 

“I've taken the liberty of having it moved to your portion of the harbor already, sir.” 

“You don't half-do your work, do you Barrow? It was an excellent investment in that assistant of yours as well. ” Crawley shook hands with Barrow, who hoped that he wouldn't suddenly remember Barrow while making another set of raiding plans. 

 

He wandered back to the table, eager to get the Helheim out of the festivities and do a bit of celebrating on his own. Or, he would, if he hadn't seen Jimmy flashing glances at the serving girl. 

“Jimmy is it?” She said looking up through her lashes when she pressed a drink into his hands. 

“That's right -”

“Ivy.” She gave a a shy smile. 

Jimmy smiled into his drink. Barrow held back, a pit opened up in his chest. His hands fumbled with a flint to light angelica. The smoke wafted from his between his curled lips. 

“If you have time away from that boatbuilder, you should come down to the tavern to see me.”

 

“Mmm. I'll see what I can do.”  
Ivy gave an embarrassed sort of giggle and passed Jimmy a second drink before running off. 

 

Barrow kept his face composed, letting the uncertainty that welled up in him be exhaled in puffs of white smoke. He steeled himself with the familiar taste on his tongue and the weight in his heart he knew too well. Without a word he sat himself on the bench beside Jimmy, lit a second and passed it over. 

“If you need a night away Jimmy, go right ahead. You work hard.” 

Jimmy looked at the end of the burning wrapped herb to save himself from answering. 

“She is ...'pretty' if you're the kind of someone to be interested.” Barrow pressed, fighting to keep the wounded animal out of his tone. 

Perhaps it had been unfair to think that Jimmy had been interested in Barrow. The luck he had with romance was probably the work of Loki for a celestial laugh. Barrow always found himself getting vested with others who were quick to throw him out of their bed to make room for a pretty girl.   
Maybe..., maybe it was was unfair of him to expect anything out of a man who had been plucked out of his homeland and thrown into the arms of a stranger. Barrow didn't know what he would have done if their roles had been reversed. 

Barrow out a long exhale. The smoke curled from his nose giving him a beastly appearance of the dragons he so magnificently carved. His gaze was expectant. 

Jimmy's burned and ashed at his hand, still too stricken to move. Barrow was surprised to see Jimmy's expression to change from one of stunned guilt to anger. 

“Do I really mean so little to you?” Jimmy's words were a barely a whisper in the roar of the longhouse. Barrow felt each one stab at him. Jimmy's felt himself mimicking Barrow's cold stare. 

“I could be asking the same thing.” Barrow snubbed put out the flame and wiped the ash onto the floor. “No one had bothered to ask you what you wanted, Jimmy. I have no desire to put you in a situation you no longer wanted to be in.” 

Jimmy grabbed his hand and led Barrow out of the longhouse and along the familiar shoreline.   
He felt the alcohol make him stumble and Barrow keeping his hand on his shoulder. The shipbuilder's face was as stony as his carvings. When the village was well out of sight is when Jimmy finally spoke. 

“I laugh and smile at whatever moves, always have. You've seen it.” 

“I didn't think you were the sort to charm the pants off of goats. I'll be sure to remember that in the future.” 

The alcohol was making Jimmy's brain turn to cottondown. “That's right, you caught me you big ole dimglow.” After a moment he added “Goats” as though he made the best joke under the sky. 

Barrow felt the anger and uncertainty flush out of him. Without it to steady him he felt as vulnerable and as shaky as a newborn elk. 

“Really though, Ivy?” 

“Have you spoken with her? She is as dull as dirt. I didn't have to pay her for my drink though.” 

“...That's because they were free, Jimmy.” 

Jimmy smacked himself on the forehead. “That gangly beast tricked me out of a few coins.”

“Too-tall?” Barrow snorted. “He never liked me much, sorry that got you in his line of fire.” 

“I'll have to gamble it out of him then.” 

“Now I would pay to see that.”

 

The walked along the shore in the near-darkness. It was nothing like the beach that lined his coastal place of birth. That beach had been dotted with perfumed flowers, shells, white sand, and a rocky coast. This beach was more mud mixed with sand that sucked your boots into the ground. The waves beat angrily against the hills that gaped out over the shoreline. The perpetual stink of low-tide was in the air mixed with salted fish from off the boats, but it was Jimmy's favorite place here. Not many others bothered to come to the coastline unless they were unloading ships. They were always left completely alone no matter the time of day, making it perfect.

“I don't myself any more fascinating than Ivy.” Barrow looked out over the water. 

Jimmy was still a bit drunk, and was going to have none of this. “Did she outfox a Jarl for my life?” His drink-warmed hands cupped Barrow's face and turned Barrow to look at him. “Did this Ivy keep an entire shipfull of people from dying? Did she have kindness to open her home to a stranger and still act like the coldest bastard to everyone else? You are- You are” 

 

“You're stupid, you know that?” Jimmy teased Barrow. He crushed his lips against the other man's to keep him from answering. The kiss brushed everything Barrow wanted to say completely out of his mind. The firmness of Jimmy's lips against his own made him tip his head back and part his lips.   
Jimmy's mouth softened. He pressed his tongue lazily against Barrow's savoring the taste of smoke and strong wine. 

When Jimmy broke away, he pressed his head against Barrow's. “Completely stupid. The stupidest man I ever met, if you think that you're anything less than interesting.” Clumsy, drunk kisses the side of Barrow's face. “Stupid for thinking I wanted to chase that skirt.”

Barrow pressed his face against the warm skin of Jimmy's exposed neck. “I'm sorry for not giving you more credit.” He said in ways of a compliment. Flirting for drinks, he really should have seen that one coming. In fact, he was almost proud of him. 

 

Jimmy rumbled with sleepy mirth. “I'm dead on my feet, lets get home.” 

 

 

Like any other night the fire smoldered down to embers. They fell asleep to the house creaking in the darkness, the soft sounds of one another's breathing, and the feeling of their limbs tangled together. 

Nothing, however, could prepare Barrow for what he woke up to. He rolled over feeling the vacant space beside him. The bedding was damp and the door was ajar. Barrow threw on his boots and cloak and ran out into the night to find where Jimmy had gotten himself too. 

Barrow hoped he was just out to be sick from drink, but his he heart dropped when he saw Jimmy out laying by the well. Jimmy had somehow got himself outside for some cold air or water and was now completely slumped unconscious. Barrow heard the soft inhale and exhale from Jimmy, but before even touching him he could feel the fever blistering on him. 

 

He quickly knocked on his neighbors door promising to pay the sleepy young lad if he'd fetch Sybil.   
Sybil, one of Mary's sisters, had thrown down the silver-spoon life had handed her and devoted her healing services to the temple. During the wait, Barrow over-the-shouldered Jimmy and settled him back inside. He tore Jimmy's boots and shirt off, his heart nearly stopping when he saw the sheen of sickly sweat that coated him. 

 

Barrow did his best to keep himself composed. He'd never forgive himself if Jimmy woke up to him losing his head. It was difficult being so useless, only able to dab at his forehead with a damp cloth. His opposite hand was pressed to his mouth, his teeth worrying at the back of his knuckles to keep himself from crying out in despondence. In the amount of time it took Sybil to get to his door, the flesh was raw on his hand. 

Sybil marched in with a professional grace. Her dark hair was plaited on against her scalp, and she wore the white robes that marked out a a healer. She had been good company to Barrow growing up before her path took her to a more spiritual role. The time since they had been away from each other erased nothing. She watched Barrow out of the corner of her eye compose himself and set a stoic face on. His hand was under the covering holding hard onto Jimmy's. 

Sybil set down her things and crossed over to Barrow. The shipbuilder made to effort to move and kept his hand firmly on Jimmy's like it was a lifeline. “Jimmy isn't the only one ill,” she paused. “High fever ? Had he been sick to his stomach at all?” Her voiced lowered to a more gentle tone. 

Well shit, of course everyone was going to fall after mingling about one another and sharing food...  
Sybil cleared her throat and Barrow was sucked out of his thoughts. 

“I didn't see anything when I found him outside. I b-believe he was just feeling warm – he had been drunk, and was going for some water. “ 

Sybil was never very good at mastering her face. She said nothing, but examined the unconscious man thoroughly. 

“This isn't like with the other's, Barrow.” She surveyed the shipbuilder. His composure was crumbling, his knuckles white with the force of his clenched fists. He swallowed and said very quietly, “Does this mean you can do nothing?”

“I think this is a spiritual sickness.” She stood to look out of Barrow's window. “There are raven's all over your house tonight...” She trailed off and shook her head. She was a woman of healing, and she'd leave the fancy stories for the priests. “I can give you Yarrow for him. If he can't drink an infusion, you'll have to mash it and stick it under his arms. It should help, but 'whatever' is ailing him will need to be found out before I can do more.” 

Barrow clutched the tiny jar and didn't respond to Sybil as she said her formalities and left. Pahdmur's words were too busy ringing around his head. 

“You're at a split path Barrow, if you're not careful you could lose something.” 

 

That couldn't have meant Jimmy, could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnddd I hope you all don't hate me <3   
> Ugh I was so sleepy reading over this, I hope it makes sense.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A teeny tiny update before a much larger part, wootwoot.

  
  
Barrow crashed through the underbrush of the pine-wood. He could here the snaps of twigs behind him, the heavy cracks of thunder overhead. Birds unsettled from branches with raucous caws, their dark wings and talons dug at every piece of his exposed flesh. He could feel thick riveulets of blood gushing from his face, turning a side of his vision red.  
  
  
 **“BA R R O W.”**  
  
It wasn't a voice that rang out around the clearing. It resonated from every plant and feathered fiend, from the air, from the innerworkings of his own heart. It repeated with every heavy thud of his pulse. The ravens worked their beaks furiously, mimicking the sound that their master thundered. They took off from the shaking, injured man – leaving a scattering of black feathers.  
  
 **“YOU THINK YOU CAN RUN.”**  


It wasn't question, it was a sneer. Barrow groaned and pressed his forehead to his knees. He could feel the sickly warmth dripping down his chin. He pressed his palms to his eyes to wipe it away, only to feel nothing in one socket. He wanted to cry out – but it seemed his voice was gone. Barrow heard his whimpers distorted out of a bird's beak – his despondence mocked. Thousands of birds joined in on mocking his pain.

 

**“YOU WILL NEVER BE REMEMBERED.”**

 

So spoke the god of the deepest fear. Where lives were no more than give and pull of the tide erasing the rocky shores. That the war making, the conquering, that all of there actions mean nothing. Least of all one of a viking who refused the life of glory.  
  
For a fleeting moment Barrow thought he felt the presence of his mother. The gentle, maternal lift of his chin by a set of hands, her hushed murmur on the wind. The shipbuilder would have given anything for his eyes to be able to steal a glance, to see if it really was the fierce woman he and his father loved so dearly. Her presence vanished in an instant when the booming voice returned.

  
**“YOU MUST-”**

 

 

Whatever he must do was cut off by the feeling of someone roughly shaking him awake. Barrow weakly lifted a hand to bat them away. He tried to protest, but a dry cough sputtered out instead. Water was dripped into his mouth and a cool hand pressed to his temple.  
  
“Barrow you need to wake up.”

 

He knew that voice, it was strained and terrified, but by gods did he know that voice.

 

“Jimmy?” Barrow's voice was no more than a gravelly whisper. He felt the set of hands help lift him up to sit against something hard.

 _  
“Yes,”_ the whisper was soft against his ear. Lips and tears brushed against the side of his face.

 

 

Barrow felt the hair on his neck rise. Jimmy was back home with Sybil - … then where was he? And what of his dream? The dream, now that left a terrible taste in his mouth. Could he still be dreaming even though his face burned in pain and the pressure behind his eyesockets was sheer agony?   


He felt Jimmy lean away from him and got the impression that he was being inspected.

 

“I'm sorry,” Jimmy breathe billowed across his face. “If this hurts don't ...kick me or anything.”  
  
Barrow heard a rip, then felt a cloth rub over the side of his face. The pain set his teeth on edge, and he had to will himself not to flail. His fingers clenched hard in the grass that brushed against his palms.  
A searing white heat pounded in the back of his skull when Jimmy got near to his eyes. Eye rather, he could feel the emptiness, but did not want to put thought to it to give it realness. A pit dropped in his stomach – he was older than the vain little blonde, and now he was disfigured to boot. What a catch Barrow was, he'd throw himself back.  
  


His good eye fluttered open now that the lid was cleaned of blood. It took a minute for him to get his bearings. The dappled light and colors of the wood danced around his line of sight, a blurry lump slowly turned into the man he loved.

 

Love, that was a funny word. It never dropped from his tongue so easily, it had to be fucked out of him and whispered feverishly against skin. He thought it now so plainly that he couldn't be mistaken. Barrow watched Jimmy's brows knit together with worry, his mouth in a pout. Worried... about him, and it made his heart ache for him all the more.  
  
It took a few moments for his eyes and mind to catch up with one another. Slowly his thoughts put themselves together from under the trauma of whatever happened between him and deity. Jimmy was seriously ill – and here himself was disfigured. Barrow got to his feet and embraced Jimmy in his arms.  
  
“Where the hell are we Barrow?” Jimmy leaned back to survey the other man's expression. His voice rose a nervous octave. “I only know I got up and smacked me head, and I woke up here.”

 

Barrow shrugged Jimmy's hands off of his shoulders and did his best to take account of himself for the first time since waking. He had the same hands, same feet, same pants he slept in. But - somehow they woke in the wood, and one that he had never laid eyes on before.

 

The leaves upon the spaced branches were wide and flat that let down yellowgreen dappled light. The air was warm but only smelled of leaflitter and soil – no stink of sea on the wind. There was something too still in the air in the out of season summer-sun. There was no shuffle of game in the brush, no birds calling out from across the endless expanse of trees. Silence and warmth were the only constant.

 

“Helgafjell.” Barrow said suddenly. He knew it in his bones that he was not with his body, but he was somehow here with Jimmy after Odin had been threatening to step on his neck. He was not in Helheim, so it was only a blessing. Jimmy just rose a brow. 

“We are mostly dead.” Barrow explained.

 

Jimmy, however, did no see this as a good thing. His finger stabbed accusingly into Barrows chest. “So how did _you_ get here. You best not have done anything stupid after I-”

 

Barrow silenced Jimmy by covering his lips with his own. It was no more than the slightest parting of lips and the feel of tear against cheek. It had the desired affect, Barrow felt Jimmy anger drain from him and relax into his grip. 

 

“Mostly dead is still slightly alive, Jimmy.” He brushed his face against Jimmy's, fighting down the feel of panic that accompanied the brush against his empty eye. “There's a way back and something to be learned here.”  


“What is this place we're in? It feels like home...”  
  
It felt strange for the word home to come off of Jimmy's lips. He spoke fondly of the place that used be his home before or when he spoke of Barrow's house he called it home, but never with quite this feeling. Barrow felt his heart pick up against the cage of his chest, the way Jimmy was looking at him was as though _he_ was what home meant to him.  
  
Barrow of course felt the same thing. He felt more belonging in the company of the blonde than all his life surrounded by his own people. Barrow thought Jimmy as a bird, that if he brought such frank thoughts to him that he would flutter off leaving him more closed off than ever. Jimmy reflexively swallowed and looked anywhere but Barrow. He knew the implication of his words and just because he wasn't denying them didn't mean he was an less embarrassed.

 

Barrow saved Jimmy from his embarrassment by looking off in the distance. Fluttering of dark feathers and caws on the wind caught his attention. He tore his gaze away from the harbringers of death to Jimmy. 

“Helgafjell is an inbetween,” he paused trying to pull words out for something that was only ever a fireside tale. “It somehow mirrors us. We will depart from this world only if we learn a lesson from it."   
  
He pushed Jimmy's back to get have him get a move on. 

  
  
"Or we'll surely die if we don't," he murmured too low for Jimmy to hear. 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing but my words! This is my first Thommy fic so be gentle, please :> Thomas is referred to as Barrow in this fic, because it seemed a bit more fitting - sorry if that deters anyone. Thanks! Many, MANY, more chapters to come.


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